


Paint the Sky With a Silver Lining

by Macx



Series: Imperfection Deviation [88]
Category: A-Team (2010), Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-02
Updated: 2011-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-23 08:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam had come to New York on request; by Seymore Simmons. There is supposed to be a rogue mech somewhere, possibly a former Sector Seven experiment. Sam and Barricade find more than either suspected...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> wrote the fic over a year ago and forgot about it... whoops!

  
Sam Witwicky sat in the shade of a tall skyscraper, wondering what the heck had ridden him to say ‘yes’ to this assignment. Well, it wasn’t really an assignment. Not even a mission. He wasn’t an agent or an officer of any kind of law enforcement, government department or shady organization. Officially Dr. Samuel James Witwicky was the lead researcher concerning Cybertronian-Earth Hybrid Tech. He didn’t have personalized cards, he didn’t have an office anywhere, he didn’t even have an official employer. Sam’s existence was… sketchy. He received money, he had a house, he lived and breathed and ate and slept, but he was completely off the grid.

Right now he wished that included air-conditioning.

The muggy heat surrounding him had New York in a death grip. For a week the heat wave had rendered normal life impossible. People groaned under the temperatures. Anyone in his right mind wouldn’t be out and about.

What did that say about him?

Sam hoped his parents were having a great time at the air-conditioned shopping centers and shops all around the city.

It had been planned as a family get-together. With most of his past months spent in the Arctic, at the Project base, he had seen little of his family and it had felt like ages since his mother had talked his ear off about something or other, inquired into his life, asked about ‘Bee’ and winked at him.

She had actually winked!

Sam felt dark amusement wash over him through the link. It wasn’t a connection to Bumblebee but to a much more sinister appearing mech. Barricade. Bumblebee and Jazz were currently up on the Ark because of a reconnaissance run planned for the next week. He wouldn’t see his partner for a while and it was good training, he told himself. They weren’t attached by the hip and separation should be natural. That he had jumped on the opportunity to go to New York on a reconnaissance of his own with none other than Barricade should have told him how well this separation was working.

Not well at all.

That his parents had accepted Sam’s connection to an alien life form that looked like machine, was actually a transforming robot and acted as their son’s car, had been a big surprise to Sam when it had happened. He had expected more of an outrage. Then again, he should have known. His parents had been confronted with a lot of weird and outrageous stuff, and they had taken it all in a stride. Sort of. They had accepted their son’s technopathy and later the link to Bumblebee as if it meant a daughter-in-law of the likes of Mikaela.

::He could use a holoform:: Barricade commented, sounding deviously amused.

He groaned. ::No way::

For some reason it would creep him out. Ironhide used a holoform sometimes to interact with Lennox, but it was a special case. Sam understood why the weapons specialist had created the hardlight form and he knew Lennox appreciated it very much. But for him and Bee? No. Not really.  
Barricade was parked a block away, in an official parking lot, sitting in the shade of a skyscraper. He had shed the police cruiser cover and become a black Mustang with non-descript plates – New York plates to blend in – and no flashy additions. He was actively scanning the area and through the link Sam noticed that he was tense. He expected something to happen, even if this was nothing but watching and waiting right now.

Sam emptied his water bottle and threw it into the trash, then fished a new one out of his backpack.

::What am I doing here?:: he sighed.

::Losing bodily fluids on a senseless take-out:: was the cool commentary in the back of his mind. ::I, on the other hand, have air-conditioning::

He groaned to himself at the thought of a nice, cool car interior. ::Don’t tempt me!::

::But it’s so much fun::

::Right now, you’re not!::

Sam sent a glare and tried to concentrate on his objective again. He wasn’t out here for fun. He was actually working, though far from his normal field of operations.

Then again, maybe not.

He was a doctor of several fields of expertise, all in the mechanical engineering department, but he was also a technopath. While he could function as a field operative, he preferred not to. He wasn’t an agent and he didn’t want to be one. His life was already complicated enough without the additional mental stress of undercover work.

::If you would unwind you could enjoy the change of routine:: Barricade told him, clearly listening in to his thoughts. ::Routine is deadly. You have potential, Prime, and it is wasted in labs::

::This here isn’t my interpretation of having a good time!:: he snarled.

Because it was hot and the air was stale, without a single breeze disturbing the heaviness. He was sweating, he was hot, he was uncomfortable, and just the thought of cold water had him want to skinny dip in the next fountain.

As it was, he wouldn’t. Not just because he would probably get written up for public whatever. He also had to keep an eye on the car lot next to the cute little hotel that was wedged between tall glass-and-steel buildings. It was one of those colonial buildings, narrow, three stories high, with a sand dusted front, granite-gray stone steps, a brass railing, and wooden shutters that had been freshly painted a deep burgundy red. It looked cozy and cute, but Sam wondered how anyone could survive in this neighborhood against the big chain hotels.

The parking lot was tiny, adjacent to the hotel, and belonged to the hotel owner. It had once been paved, but the cracks in the tarmac told of the age. Four cars were currently in residence. One looked derelict and unable to go anywhere. Two others were probably guest cars. The fourth was their target. It was an old, beat-up ’83 Toyota Camry with flaking paint and rusty patches. It was parked next to the wall of the hotel, almost huddling in a corner as it seemed, and even from here, across the street, Sam could see that the tires were almost as old as the car. They were cracking in places. Dust had collected on the roof and hood, and there were bird droppings on the metal skin. It was in a sorry state.

Someone ambled up to him and Sam took a quick swallow of water. He tried not to glare and bit back on the first words that came to mind as sharp brown eyes on a narrow face pinned him down.  
“Well, kid, anything?” Seymore Simmons asked without the niceties of a greeting.

The meet and greet had been hours before and Sam had tried to make it a short one. Simmons hadn’t mellowed with age. If anything, the annoyance factor had risen and the former Sector Seven agent was even more paranoid and suspicious of everything than ever before. He no longer had an agent status with any of the Autobot-affiliated organizations, but for some reason he was still around. A freelancer, he called himself.

“No,” Sam answered briskly.

Simmons narrowed his eyes at the subject under suspicion, then glanced at Sam once more.

“Sure? Your brain’s not funny and garbled?”

“No.”

The older man huffed. “I know he’s there. I’ve been tailing the sonofabitch for months!”

Sam knew all about it. Simmons shad made it his life’s work to track down rogue signals from possible mechs hiding on this planet, be in Asia, Africa, the Americas or Europe. It had been in Europe that he had recruited some kid called Leo to do his legwork and the guy was as hyper about alien life on Earth as Simmons was. Sam had never met Leo, but he had seen the excited face of a fresh-out-of college kid. Dark-eyed, curly black hair, olive skin, Leo had been reporting to Simmons about what he had picked up in Europe, which had been next to nothing spectacular, but he would be back home in the States this month. Simmons’ new recruit was so full of energy, Sam wondered if he had to be tranquilized to sleep.

Because of his multiple contacts all over the place, like here in New York, Simmons had found the hotel a likely hiding spot for a mech life form. Sam wouldn’t have been involved – this was more up Epps’ alley and into his field of work – but before Epps sent in the troops, the place had to be staked out and observed, to make sure they weren’t storming into a perfectly nice hotel and scaring the guests.

“Well, let’s take a closer look then,” Sam decided.

He walked back a block and picked up his backpack for his cover. He was a tourist, which was mostly true, and would spend a few nights in the small hotel. Barricade said nothing as he closed the trunk and walked back again, hoisting his luggage.

Simmons was nowhere to be seen when he turned around the corner and Sam simply walked up the stairs and pushed open the doors.

* * *

He had been in the room for an hour now, sitting on his bed, eyes closed, scanning closely and slowly, but aside from the expected electronics there was nothing, nothing at all, that roused the technopathic mind. Sam wondered if this wasn’t a wild goose-chase, initiated by the paranoid mind of Seymore Simmons.

::Barricade?:: he asked the ever-watchful presence that was his anchor.

::Nothing:: came the low rumble.

Barricade had been scanning outside, looking for any kind of signal that could speak of a Cybertronian life-form. So far no luck.

Sam sighed and slid off the bed. He grabbed his camera and left the room, deciding to play tourist. At least in this hotel. His cover was art and history student from Mission City, so that was something that would explain his interest in the old building. With a notebook, a pen and the camera he started to explore the building, senses wide open.

* * *

An hour later he returned to the room and flopped down on the bed, frustrated. He had been up and down the hotel, had walked around the block, more or less, and prowled around the parking lot where the old cars were.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

He had even widened his circle, just in case the hotel wasn’t the center of activities, but there had been no blip. Aside from the human technology, that is.

Sam had ended up in a coffee shop two corners away from the hotel, with a tall, strong, black coffee, thinking and scanning. The scanning had given him a headache and he had topped off his second large cup with a cinnamon roll and two donuts. The barrista had given him an indulgent smile and a flirty commentary about the need of growing young man. Sam had been too tired to reply something witty. He had paid and returned to his table, wolfing down the sugary sweets.

::Well?:: Barricade asked when the technopath returned.

::Nothing:: Sam replied. ::I’ll have another look around tonight. If there’s nothing by tomorrow afternoon, I’m leaving::

::Already giving up?::

Sam grimaced. ::Y’know, this is me being helpful. I’m on vacation and I’m spending it surveilling::

Barricade chuckled. ::All you had to say was no.::

Sam sent him a dark look and it got him another chuckle. The idea that another Sector Seven experiment had been discovered had been too tempting. He wanted to help the mech in question, if it really existed, because like all its brothers it had been created by what Sam called crazy, out of control scientists. People without a conscience who didn’t see mechanoid life as life; who had viewed everything as an object.

He shuddered a little at the memories, seeing Bumblebee strapped down and tortured, recalling WiFi, who had been born and killed within an hour. WiFi had survived the death blow, but only because he had been strong and resilient. Others had turned crazy or had perished.

Drawing himself out of the dark memories, Sam decided to spend some time with his parents, get dinner with them, then return for another round. He left the hotel, nodding at the receptionist with a smile, and walked down the block to where Barricade was parked. It was still too warm and the heat clung to him like a blanket. The forecast was for rain and for New York that could mean torrential.

His parents had been all over New York with a guided bus tour and his mother was overflowing with enthusiasm and touristy facts.

“Julie, let the boy breathe,” his father only said, which earned him a glare.

It didn’t stop Julie Witwicky from telling Sam all about what they had seen either. Sam just grinned and listened, glad to be normal for a few hours.

“What are you two doing tonight?” he wanted to know over dessert.

“Your father has tickets to a Broadway show,” his mother told him proudly.

“Well, have fun, you two.”

“You’re working?” Ron asked.

Sam shrugged, scraping ice cream out of the depths of his cup. “Kinda.”

Ron frowned briefly, then accepted the brisk comment.

“You should get some sleep, honey. You’re on vacation!” his mother declared.

“I will. When this is over.”

She wasn’t happy and told him so in a lot of words. Sam just nodded, sighing a little to himself.

When it was just him and Barricade once more, Sam let himself once again think about the lack of evidence of a mech life form when Simmons insisted there was one. Simmons was former Sector Seven and despite the over-the-top performance sometimes, he was a good agent. Annoying as hell, but a professional. And he hadn’t lost his edge.

::Maybe it left:: Barricade entered his thoughts.

::Maybe:: Sam conceded. ::But why?::

He got no answer and he hadn’t expected one.

When they returned to the hotel, Barricade dropped him off a block away once more, so not to blow his cover, and Sam walked the last part. He passed the dark parking lot and suddenly something touched his senses. It was a tiny whisper, like something hiding underneath a mountain of blankets and just peeking out, but it was enough to alert him to a presence.

Around the corner, Barricade stopped and pulled against the curb, a prowling black presence, ready to intervene should something happen.

Sam approached the almost dark lot. He could make out a dark shape, a van, parked near the rear entrance of the hotel. It hadn’t been there when he had left for dinner. The lone bulb that shed some light didn’t help a lot. He approached the vehicle, curious but careful, senses carefully reaching for what he had felt.

The presence retreated, but it wasn’t fleeing. It was simply as careful as Sam was.

::Hey:: he sent.

It got him no reaction. He was being watched, nothing more.

Before Sam could probe any further the back door to the hotel opened and light spilled out into the derelict lot. He ducked behind the near-by Camry as a large shadow blocked the light and voices drifted over. He couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded like squabbling. One was dark and angry sounding, the other talked incessantly and fast. The two shapes moved toward the van, opened the back doors, got something out and went back inside. It looked like bags. Probably staying over night.

The presence Sam had felt had peeked a little at their approach, then gone into hiding once more. Like a brief spill of happiness, he thought. And then dormancy.

Huh.

Staying behind the Camry a little longer he tried to get a glimpse once more, but the mech mind was in its shell and he had no idea how to approach it without startling it.

::Are you sure it’s the van?:: Barricade asked and Sam thought he could make out the black shape of the Mustang across the street.

::Mostly::

::Call in the cavalry?::

::No. We’re gonna watch. There are people with it, at least two, and I want to know if they know::

Barricade was silent, but he agreed. It would be easier if the suspected mech left the populated areas, too. Maybe the two men would leave tomorrow.

tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

As it turned out, there weren’t two men but four. Sam ran into them when he came down the next morning. Literally. He walked into the small reception area and ran smack into a mountain of muscle.

“Watchit, kid,” came a low, dark rumble and he blinked at the man standing in front of him.

Dark-skinned, muscles, broad face, Mohawk. Sam gulped, intimated despite the fact that he had faced down much worse. Megatron came to mind.

Barricade chuckled in his head, clearly amused.

“Uhm, sorry, didn’t see you,” Sam stammered.

Mohawk Man gave him a narrowed-eyed look, then shrugged. “Open your eyes, kid. Helps.”

Sam pushed past and found three more men talking to an elderly woman, who Sam had thought of the hotel owner the day before when he had checked in. She had taken his name, address and credit card information, telling him about the sights to see. She had been the warm, grand-motherly type and he had liked her immediately.

One of the two men had gray hair, though he didn’t look that old. He was casually dressed. The second man was younger, handsome, charming, and smiling at the owner. Ruth, Sam recalled. She was clearly taken by his charm. The third was… weird. With a red baseball cap perched on shaggy hair, an old brown leather jacket and worn jeans he looked non-descript enough, but he was talking to… thin air. Thin air about knee-high and apparently representing a dog named Billy.

 _Oh-kay_ , Sam thought and tried to ignore him. _Weirdo._

“Mr. Witwicky,” Ruth greeted him. “How are you enjoying our fine city?”

“It’s been nice so far. Lots to see,” he answered, trying not to eye the men too openly.

“Good, good. Decided to stay another night?”

“Well, I’m meeting my parents today.” Which wasn’t a lie. He would, if matters allowed.

“How nice for you,” she answered with a genuine smile. “I’m sure they will enjoy the Big Apple as well.”

Sam was aware that he was watched by the men with eagle eyes and for some reason it felt like he was being scanned, categorized and analyzed for threat potential. Did they know what the car was? Did they use it? Abuse it? Was it aware enough to communicate or was it hiding?

“But I think I’ll stay another night,” Sam added, plowing on, trying to keep his cover. He dropped the key onto the counter.

“Good to hear. Have a nice day, Mr. Witwicky.”

He flashed a smile at Ruth and went out the door, for all intents and purposes on the way to the sights to see.

::Barricade? Can you check registrations for the hotel? They have computers. Those four should be registered.::

::As is their car:: Barricade answered, sounding smug. ::Though it looks like a fake::

Sam frowned as he slid into the black Mustang parked two blocks away.

“John Smith?” he echoed when Barricade told him the name. “Fake? Cover? If so, why?”

“John Smith is also registered at the hotel,” Barricade supplied. “As well as three guests in the room, all nameless.”

“Huh.”

“Checking out today,” the former Decepticon added.

“Guess we’ll do some surveillance work on the road then.”

A wave of excitement washed over Sam and he had to stifle a smile. Bored Barricade was dangerous and with Jazz gone, Barricade was dangerously bored. It was why he had tagged along without much prodding. Now they were about to launch a hunt. It appealed to the shock-trooper side of the mech and that side was brimming with anticipation.

Three hours later they were past the city limits and well on their way. Sam had made contact with their military contingent standing by and he had been surprised to get Will Lennox on the line.

“Bored?” Sam asked, amused.

“You have no idea. Ironhide and I are close to your position. The team’s standing by. Any more reads?”

“No. Just glimpses. It’s the car and it’s aware, but I can’t tell more.”

“We ran the name John Smith and the plates again.”

Sam heard something between the lines. “And?”

“And it’s weird. John Smith exists, but he’s a cover. A very good cover. Someone somewhere took a lot of care to construct this identity.”

Sam was silent and he felt Barricade’s rising interest. Despite the mech’s proclamations that humanity only interested him as far as it concerned his survival, he took more than a passing interest in this case.

“To cover what?” Sam wondered out loud.

“No idea, but we’ll find out eventually. Whitman’s team is the best and they know how to crack a code.”

Sam smiled grimly. Gene was still their top man and while he had found a lot of hacker talent in the past years, his own understanding of Cybertronian tech and how to use it to his advantage set him apart from the rest. He was an artist and he knew how to stay ahead.

“How do you want to handle it?” Lennox asked calmly.

Sam chewed on his lower lip. “Under the radar. I don’t want a military strike team pushing them off the road for questioning. Might make matters worse. Let’s see where they are headed and spend the night. I’ll make contact with the mech mind then.”

Will was silent for a moment, then, “Your choice, Sam. Just be careful.”

It was his choice and he could make it. He was a Prime. He wasn’t a kid who had no idea how to run things. He was, if he wanted to, in charge. Theoretically, Lennox was his senior in years. Theoretically, he could challenge him because he was also a Prime. Practically both men understood each other and Will respected his choices.

“Will do,” he said out loud.

* * *

The New York client had been an easy assignment: saving a privately owned hotel from being taken over by some business developer who wanted to level the building and sell the plot. It had been a matter of two weeks and some fun time, John ‘Hannibal’ Smith mused as the van with his team drove away from the Big Apple. There had been two challenging moments, but all in all nothing serious. Ruth Chambers was now safe from the greedy development company, the hotel was out of debt, and The A-Team was en route to a new client in Maine.

B.A. Baracus was driving, always, and Mudock was jabbering away in the back, gesticulating wildly about something or other. Hannibal had tuned him out, already going over the Maine client. Face was listening to Murdock with half an ear, but he was probably still lingering on Ruth’s attractive niece, who had shot him down right away from day one. It had been a sobering experience for their con-man. There were only a few women who had been able to resist his charm and Rebekka was one of them. Of course, Face had been challenged by her denial and he had met that challenge, but he hadn’t won.

Hannibal grinned a little. Sometimes it was very healthy for Face not to get what he wanted and was used to getting.

“Boss,” B.A. suddenly rumbled.

Hannibal glanced out the front screen and sat up straighter.

“Incoming,” he said softly.

Murdock stopped talking, leaning forward, and Face looked a lot more alert.

“Military?” he asked sharply.

“Ain’t looking like no military I ever saw,” B.A. said, hands clenching around the steering wheel of his beloved van.

“Next exit. Take it,” Hannibal ordered.

B.A. didn’t question him, just did it. The black car followed, but then took a different direction. The tension in the van remained until, after ten more miles, no new black pursuer appeared.

“Paranoia,” Murdock sang. “Paranoia’s gonna getcha! Getcha now, getcha good.”

B.A. glowered at the pilot, but from the way Hannibal was watching everything, he had picked up on something. Something he thought was a hunter targeting them. But then, the military had never sent a single vehicle after them.

They drove past small towns until they found the highway again. Baracus kept checking the mirrors, but the black car didn’t return, nor was there a new suspicious vehicle behind them.

Yeah, maybe paranoia was what would get them for good one day.

* * *

For the next five hours Barricade followed the black van, displaying a cunning pursuit technique that had Sam smile. He would take the same exit, but not head in the same direction afterwards, only to catch up to the van anew, in a different color outfit. He would keep an optic on the van as they drove a parallel route, then, at an intersection, would get in front or behind the van. Once he used his police decals and it got them a surprising result: the van’s driver chose the next exit, took to a parking lot of a mall close by and waited until Barricade had passed by. Through satellite images Sam followed the progress of the van as it immediately headed down a different route and only later joined the old highway once more.

“Not fond of police,” the technopath muttered.

Barricade rumbled softly, accelerating again.

“Don’t run it too close,” Sam immediately said as he picked up on the mech’s thoughts.

“Stay out of my mind.”

He didn’t rise to the bait, just tensed when they neared the van once more. It had just taken an exit toward a diner. Barricade slowed down as if to follow, then went past. The holoform had popped up, surrounding Sam like a second skin, giving him the appearance of the dark-haired, blue-eyed officer Barricade had taken a liking to lately. The hologram tickled his senses, but he didn’t feel any different. Sam caught a brief look of the dark-skinned driver watching them suspiciously.

They were around the corner and Barricade dissolved the camouflage to turn completely black. They settled down for a wait.

It was ten minutes into their waiting game that Lennox called.

“Got news,” Will said. “Gene found some interesting things on the men driving the van. You’re not going to believe it.”

“Right now, I’ll believe anything,” Sam smiled. “Unless you tell me they’re Decepticon spies.”

“Nope. Not that bad. But interesting nevertheless. Colonel John ‘Hannibal’ Smith exists. He and his team were a highly skilled and even more highly regarded Special Forces united stationed in Iraq. Because of a mission gone bad, and I mean really bad, they were sentenced to serve ten years in a military prison – from which they escaped and have been on the run ever since.”

“Criminals,” Barricade rumbled.

“No,” Will told him. “Not if you believe the rumors floating freely when you know where to look. Seems they were set up to take the fall and went out to prove it, but sadly all evidence that would clear them has either disappeared or isn’t enough. I’ll forward all files. You can have a look whenever you want, Sam. No one from us is going to pick up where the military has left off to chase those guys. I’m convinced, just from looking at the files, that they’re innocent. Ever since they disappeared and have been hunted, they offered their services to those who can’t get justice or can be heard otherwise. Think robin Hood and you get an idea.”

Sam felt Barricade access the net to get a grasp on the reference, then sensed his surprise.

“The men with Smith are Sergeant B.A. Baracus, Captain H.M. Murdock and Lieutenant Templeton Peck. Their personal files are included.”

Barricade, who had already skimmed through all of it, whirred softly and Sam caught the gist of things. Like the fact that Murdock claimed to be insane, but was a crack pilot. Or that Peck was called ‘Face’ and a top-notch con artist.

“I only need a few minutes alone with the van,” the technopath said, almost to himself. His respect of the men was immense and he really didn’t want to encounter them on a bad day. And sneaking around the van would make a bad day.

Barricade’s dark presence rose. Sam felt the protectiveness without the mech putting it into words. If one would threaten Sam, Barricade would do a lot more than just threaten back. It felt good to know he had protection, but it also told him that he wasn’t a soldier. He was… whatever. He needed protecting.

Sam pushed that thought away, but he wasn’t fast enough for it to not leak into Barricade’s mind. Damn, sometimes the connection was a nuisance.

“Maybe you should finally accept what you are, Samuel James Witwicky,” was the cold, hard rebuke. “You are a warrior, a technopath, a human, a Prime, a bonded, a scientist and the offspring of Ronald and Judy Witwicky. Not necessarily in that order.”

Sam stared. Even after such a long time of knowing Barricade the mech still managed to surprise him.

“Okay,” he said slowly, not sure what this meant and where it had actually come from. “I wouldn’t call myself a warrior, though.”

“You are. With your weapons of choice. Being a warrior doesn’t mean guns. It doesn’t mean soldier either. You will fight for your life, for the life of your bonded, for the lives of your friends.”

Sam felt echoes of something touch him, of something deeply personal for Barricade. He understood.

“Yeah. I still don’t think ‘warrior’ fits the life I want to lead.”

“Control only extends so far,” was the growl. A very telling growl.

Sam let the subject drop. He knew he wasn’t in any danger and that Barricade wouldn’t harm him, but there were areas he wouldn’t tread until he had to.

This was one of them.

And he had something else to think of: the van. And how to make contact with it.

  



	3. Chapter 3

  
Will Lennox sat inside the familiar and comfortable cab of his partner’s alternate form. He had his feet up on the dash, listening with half an ear to the chatter on the military channel. Eye-lids drooping a little he seemed to be dozing, but he was wide awake. His mind was simply going over all the facts they had about the four men Sam was currently following. They were dangerous if threatened, but from the various reports Gene had forwarded he knew they were really doing a lot of good. They were modern soldiers of fortune and they helped those who found no other way to help themselves. They had never killed anyone, which was one reason why the military hadn’t hunted them down with more force. One man by the name of Decker was making it his life’s goal to catch Smith, but so far they stayed ahead.

Lennox had already given Optimus a heads-up and the Autobot leader agreed that if Sam’s assessment of the mech that posed as the team’s van was a positive one, that it was benign and not insane like so many of Sector Seven’s experiments, they would make sure Smith’s men would remain free and that Decker would stay away from them as far as possible.

“Anything?” he asked into the silence.

“No.”

Will closed his eyes and sank deeper into the comfortable seats. Ironhide hummed and it sounded amused.

Lennox cracked an eye open. “What?”

“Already getting bored?”

“I’m a trained Army Ranger, Hide. I’ve been watching and waiting a lot longer and in more uncomfortable places.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Accepted.”

He chuckled. “You’re bored,” Will stated.

Silence.

“Not much of a patient guy, I know,” the human Prime went on. “But let me tell you, going in there guns blazing and scaring the new mech into revealing itself and its intentions isn’t the solution. This calls for different talents.”

Ironhide grunted.

“We can relieve some tension at the shooting range when this is over.” A sly expression crossed his features. “Or we can handle that relief right now.”

That got him a chuckle. “Humans have a one-track mind.”

“Well, this hybrid human has.”

“Nothing hybrid about the very clear offer.”

Will grinned. “Any takers?” His fingers played teasingly over the side panel of the driver side door, runes running over his finger tips.

Ironhide’s shudder was answer enough. As was the hardlight hologram that pounced him. Lennox grinned and silently congratulated his partner on updating his techniques. Ironhide liked to learn human ways of close physical interaction, but he was limited by the missing sensor net in his holoform. The contact with the runes made up for that rather nicely, as did his enthusiasm to try out what might work for them as well.

Like the kissing.

Will didn’t mind the kissing at all, despite how weird it had been in the beginning. A lot had been weird, but he adapted; they both did.

The cab’s window’s darkened, but Will didn’t care one bit. They were alone out here and the military unit assigned as back-up was far enough away not to interfere.

It was his last thought as the exchange of energy grew more intense and Ironhide upped the ante by demonstrating that yes, he did download human porn.

* * *

Sam gazed at the black van, all senses opening slowly. He felt the soft pulses of another mind he hadn’t met before, one that was regarding him cautiously. He let his abilities rise and did a first, non-invasive scan. It got him a prickle of curiosity. He approached – while still standing where he was – and tried to get an idea what he was facing.

It didn’t feel like a Cybertronian spark, nor like a sparkless mind. It was more like WiFi, which only strengthened his belief that this was one of the lost Sector Seven experiments, like Firebolt. But where Firebolt had been forthright and interested, this mind was cautious and almost shy.

::Hello:: he sent.

It got him nothing.

::My name is Sam. I’m not here to harm you. I just want to get to know you::

Still nothing, but he thought he sensed a ripple. Around him there was no movement. Anyone with any sense at all was in bed and asleep. At two in the morning, in this rag-tag town with its single unkempt motel, no one stayed out past ten. The only bar in town had closed early and the gas station was dark and silent. The fifty-plus towns people were scattered over a large area with tiny farms and even tinier houses. The only selling point of this place was that if you needed a place to sleep, this was the next best thing. And cheap.

In the distance a truck honked as it thundered across the highway. Otherwise, silence. One reason the four men had sought out this place was the anonymity of the town.

Something shifted in the van’s mind’s presence and suddenly it rolled forward noiselessly.

Sam tensed.

Barricade’s presence rose as well and Sam felt the bumper connect with his legs. Gently. Just a soft pressure to remind him there was protection. He touched one palm against the smooth, warm metal, almost curling his fingers around it.

::What’s your name?:: he sent, directed at the van.

He thought he heard something, but it sounded garbled. Did it have the same damage Wifi had battled with for so long? That would mean a prior injury.

::I don’t understand you::

Again, the garbled words. Then, ::Go. Away::

It was the first he had heard out of the mech and the voice was… rather feminine. What a surprise.

Sam pushed the surprise aside.

Whatever.

::I can’t.::

::Go. Away:: This time there was more force behind it.

He caught a fleeting impression of being hunted.

::I’m not here to harm you or the humans with you. I’m not with the military.::

::Lies::

::No, please..::

::You followed us. You know who they are. You are a hunter::

The van rolled closer and Barricade’s engine came to life with a dark growl. Sam’s hand clenched around the guard rail, pushing Barricade down with his mind. Not yet. It would scare the van.

But it was too late.

Sam felt the spike of fear and he knew things were going downhill immediately. The black van’s engine came to life with a howl and it surged forward, barreling toward the technopath. Sam lanced a blow at the mech and the van swerved with a shrill cry, turning sharply and kicking up dust.

“Don’t!” he yelled, trying to reach for the terrified mech mind.

Barricade had launched himself forward as well, blocking the van’s escape, making it turn around.

And then it transformed.

All musings about whether or not it was a transforming vehicle or not were blown apart by the smooth shift in form. The metal unfolded and rearranged itself into a heavily armored, stocky looking mech with a green visor and a battle mask over his lower face.

Sam had no time to check if the noise had woken the motel guests, he reached out and tried to calm the mech.

Barricade had followed suit, transforming himself. His weapons aimed at the unknown female mech, red optics aglow with tamed anger. He was positioned between Sam and the attacker, very much aware that the human Prime was still too close.

A hand touched his foot and the power of the technopath seemed to shiver through him as Sam anchored himself firmly.

::We mean no harm!:: he called again and again, using his mind. ::We only want to ask you a few questions. Nothing’s gonna happen::

He repeated the words, over and over, trying to be calm and in control.

Somehow the black mech was far from calm and he was darting nervous looks around.

::We don’t mean any harm, either for you or your friends:: Sam tried.

::Fugitives. They’re fugitives. The military hunts them!::

::We don’t care. We only want to know about you::

The green visor pinned him and Sam felt Barricade tense. The shock-trooper was looming next him, ready to strike.

::You are like them:: the technopath tried. ::You are a mechanical life-form born by the Allspark. We want to know if you’re okay::

The black mech glanced at the dark motel across the street, visibly drawn between defending itself and fleeing.

::We mean no harm:: Sam repeated. ::We’re friends:: He turned his attention briefly to Barricade. ::Stand down, please. You’re scaring it::

Barricade, whose relationship with Sam was based on a lot of different factors, none connected to him being a Prime, still followed the order.

::Please…:: Sam said softly.

The van whined softly, drawn.

::I give you my promise as a Prime that nothing will happen to your human friends or yourself::

The others were suddenly closer. Will and Ironhide and the team. They were darkness within the night, invisible, but there. Sam felt Ironhide’s powerful presence, a sharp mind that was ready for battle. He couldn’t sense Lennox, but he knew his fellow human Prime was there as well.

::Please:: he begged the unknown mech. ::Please calm down. I’m not the enemy::

The green visor scanned him and Barricade, the mech shifting with indecision.

::Why are you here then?:: it/she asked.

::Because we were looking for something else. One of those who were lost and might not know who they are. We found you.:: Sam tried a little smile. ::You’re not alone. There are others.”

The nameless mech glanced at Barricade.

::His name is Barricade. He is from Cybertron. It’s the place where the Allspark came from, the device that gave you life.::

::How do you know?::

::If you give me a chance, I’ll answer all your questions.::

Sam took a step away from Barricade and the other took a step back. He raised a hand, trying to calm the skittish mech.

“We’re not here to harm you or your friends,” he said out loud. “Give me a little time. It’s all I ask for.”

“You’re not taking me away?”

“No.”

The other contemplated that. “Why can I hear you in my head?”

“I’m a technopath. It’s my ability. I can talk to machines.”

Another contemplative silence, then the apparently female mech seemed to relax a little more.

“What’s your name?” Sam tried once more.

“I was never given one. B.A. calls my Mygirl.”

“How about Mai?” Sam smiled. He didn’t get a negative on the suggestion. “You never talked to him?”

“No. I can’t. I have to hide.”

“Why?”

Mai gave him a hard look. “You should know.” She gestured at Barricade. “You hide with him. I can’t tell anyone or be hunted as well. I can only be with them and try to help in their work.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me about the others,” she asked.

Sam looked around. It was still dark, but soon the sun would rise. Mai transformed as if she had sensed his thoughts about discovery and Barricade followed, nose pushing against Sam’s legs once more.

::I’ll be fine with her:: he told the shock-trooper.

But Barricade didn’t follow the unspoken suggestion to leave. He remained; a dark presence inside Sam’s mind and in the parking lot.

::Lennox requests an update::

::Tell him to stand down. I’m really okay:: Sam glanced briefly at the black vehicle behind him, giving the grille a pat.

Barricade growled, but he insisted on rolling after Sam as he approached Mai. The technopath had his full attention on the van and showed a great deal of trust when he sat down next to the vehicle and started to talk. Then again, Barricade would destroy Mai without remorse or a second thought should she try to harm the Prime.

* * *

He had woken to an unspecified feeling, like a distant headache, like a thunderstorm approaching. Sometimes he had those feelings, sometimes he thought it was what the beginning of a migraine might feel like. The sensation had never lasted.

Until last night.

It had woken him and he had slipped out of bed without disturbing the man in the twin bed.

Leaving the motel room he had stepped into the pleasant night air, only to freeze as he had taken in a scene like out of a sci-fi movie. Two giant robots, a human-sized figure he couldn’t make out, all overlaid by the sensation of the approaching thunderstom in his head.

Rooted to the spot he had watched. And he had listened. For some reason he had heard and not simply seen things.

Crazy.

Weird and crazy.

And nothing he could turn his back to. Nor did he alarm the others. The thunderstorm swept him away.


	4. Chapter 4

  
It took almost until sunrise and by then Sam was tired and in dire need of something to eat. He had been in non-stop contact with Mai, had read her while listening to her story and the story of the four men called The A-Team. He kept scanning on a deeper level again and again, assessing her mental state, her stability, her truthfulness.

Barricade had come up behind him throughout that time, a cool prow pushing against his back, and Sam had found himself leaning his head back against the alien metal. He had started out with talking and finally just linked to the open mind and given Mai the information like a movie played out for her. With Barricade acting as his emergency anchor the shock-trooper was getting a front row seat in their conversations, and sometimes Sam felt little eddies at the edge of that connection. They shimmered through him, helped him focus, and he was infinitely glad for it.

Mai had silently digested everything, sometimes rocking a little on her shocks, and was now just as silent as before.

Sam leaned back, briefly resting his head against the black fender. He knew he was clinging to the inky presence of Barricade like there was no tomorrow, but he didn’t care. He really needed food, something to drink and probably a day of sleep. His brain felt like a sore, open wound and he hadn’t been using his abilities for that long without a break in a while.

But sleep had to wait.

Well, the Mars bar that dropped next to him helped a little and he gave the Saleen a weak smile.

“Thanks,” he almost-mouthed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Barricade didn’t comment.

::They are awake:: he startled Sam out of his contemplative meal of sugary goodness ten minutes later. ::We have to leave::

Sam winced a little and got to his feet, trying to lock his knees so he wouldn’t sway all too much. He still had to lean hard against the hood.

Mai had also picked up on the men’s activity and slowly rolled back into her parking spot.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“As I said, you’re your own person. We offer our help, though.”

“I don’t need it. My place is with the Team.”

Sam nodded. “Should you ever run into trouble, contact us.” He had given her an access code that connected Mai directly with Blaster.

“I will.”

Sam slipped into the silent interior of the Saleen and Barricade left the parking lot, just in time before Baracus walked out the motel and toward his van. With an ease borne out of millennia of adapting himself, Barricade became a dark red Mustang that looked a far cry from the spiffy Saleen.

“You let her go,” he remarked neutrally as they sat out of sight.

Sam, who had picked up his breakfast/lunch/dinner from the glove compartment, gazed at the dash.

“So?”

Silence.

“I can hear you judging, Barricade.”

“She is dangerous.”

“She’s no more dangerous than Firebolt or WiFi.”

“WiFi is with a human guardian, so is Firebolt. They are surrounded by those who know. She isn’t.”

“I won’t force her to come with us!” Sam said forcefully.

Silence.

“And I sure won’t destroy her, Barricade!”

It got him a dark chuckle. “Touchy. I didn’t say you should wipe her out.”

Sam felt anger chase away the tiredness and he forcefully chewed on his chocolate bar. ::Are you always this nasty when you don’t get laid?:: he asked, acid in his mind-voice.

The reply was uncharacteristic: Barricade laughed.

“Don’t project your own frustration on me, Sam Witwicky.”

“I’m not frustrated!” He was tired and aching and he wanted a shower and a bed. He wouldn’t have pushed Bumblebee out of said bed or his mind should the mech be there, but he wasn’t starved or needy or frustrated.

“You might want to take note of who you are linked to,” came the nasty reply. “While thinking that.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sam growled. “I know you can cut the line just as well.”

“My duty as your guardian is to keep you anchored.”

“By whose orders?”

“It was a request.”

“Sure, that makes it different.” Sam rubbed his head. “You’re a pain, Cade.”

“You should feel honored, human,” was the reply.

This was turning into a rather childish argument and Sam knew Barricade had intentionally done it. He was feeling a little better, the exhaustion briefly chased away, and his mind was clearer. He looked into the rear view mirror, but the shock-trooper made it easy and slid a panel open, revealing a screen. The image was of the four men and Mai, who was nothing but a van to them. They were packing.

“They are wanted criminals,” Barricade remarked. “Fugitives.”

“Not our problem.”

“Does the military still hunt them?”

“One branch probably.”

“What happens if they catch them? What will Mai do?”

Sam blew out a breath. “Yeah. Understood. Call Ironhide and Will. Tell them to meet us here when they are gone.”

Barricade did, without much of an argument about being a personal secretary. Sam briefly patted the dash.

“I appreciate the assistance.”

The growl would have scared him twenty years ago. Hell, it would have scared him even today if he didn’t know the spark inside the dark exterior.

The black Topkick passed by the leaving van a mile down the road and Will could see the man on the passenger seat shoot them a narrow-eyed look. Then they were past and he let Ironhide pull into the parking lot where Barricade was waiting. Sam was outside, leaning against the Saleen like it was the most natural thing in the world. A few years ago it would have looked wrong. Now it was normal. Barricade wasn’t Bumblebee, but he was a guardian and Sam worked seamlessly with him.

Will jumped out of the Topkick. “Talked to Banachek. He made contact with a few people in the military. The CIA is involved in this. Some guy called Lynch, who seems to exist a few dozen times. He’s harder to grasp than a slippery eel. What we have so far is that he belongs to the CIA’s SAD, the Special Activities Division.” At Sam’s blank look Lennox grinned and added, “Black ops, paramilitary operations, covert ops, that stuff.”

“He’s after them?”

“No, he’s just pushing it all along. From deep under cover. You can’t get to him.”

Sam silently digested that. “Can we keep the military from hunting them?”

Will grinned. “Oh, we can and we will.”

* * *

He had watched everything, listened to as much as he could, until the sun rose, then crept back into the motel room. His head ached and he hadn’t slept at all. But he could fake it.

The thunderstorm in his head had passed. It had been the longest ‘episode’ since…

He stopped and gazed into the bathroom mirror. Alert blue eyes stared back.

The longest since the two lost days. Twenty years ago. It was a time he had no good recall of anyway, just the sound of explosions and something. He had been hit by this something and had woken in a hospital, with people telling him about a gas explosion.

Splashing water into his face he grabbed a razor and started to shave.

The thunderstorm had come and gone twice in the weeks after that. Only a few more times since then.

Like in Iraq. Sometimes. Never associated with anything.

The doctors who had first treated him after the explosion had told him that there were splinters, remains of the bomb he couldn’t remember going off, and they were located very close to his spine. When he had signed up for the Army, the exam he had had to go through hadn’t shown a thing. Back then he had blamed the man doing the exam; he had probably overlooked the thin splinters.

Later exams, after he had been shot the first time on a mission, hadn’t revealed anything either. He had the scars from twenty years ago, but that was all that had remained.

Until today, the thunderstorm had always passed within seconds and he blamed fatigue on it. After this night, though…

He heard noises from outside the bathroom door and quickly swallowed an ibuprofen, then stepped out of the bathroom, mask on.

“You okay, kid?”

He looked into the sharp blue eyes of their team leader and managed a smile. “Headache.”

Hannibal knew about his headaches; he had sat with him once in Iraq when the vicious pain had made it impossible for him to even open his eyes for more than a second. It had been over by the end of the day and he had never associated it with anything other than a possible migraine. Looking back, knowing more today, he supposed something had been at the camp and he had felt it.  
Callused hands gently took his face and looked into his eyes. Face tried not to cringe away.

“I’m fine, Hannibal,” he insisted.

The searching look was almost too much and his mask wavered.

“Bad dreams,” Hannibal stated.

Seeing your car change into a giant robot? Yeah, probably.

Face smiled humorlessly.

Hannibal frowned, but he didn’t push. Face was glad for it. He didn’t need it. Right now he needed coffee, breakfast, and a new job to concentrate on. Luckily all of the above was available. And with more luck Hannibal wouldn’t ask him any more questions until tonight. He knew he couldn’t string his team leader along for too long. Smith knew him; he knew who Templeton Peck was and his masks and facades had never worked with Hannibal. It was a blessing and a curse.

“We’ll talk later,” was the low-voiced promise/threat from the Colonel, then he stepped away. It gave Face room and he hesitated, briefly tempted to give in to the need to tell Hannibal.

Then the moment had passed.

They left after breakfast, which consisted of food that tasted better than expected. Face felt the buzz of the thunderstorm for a second when he climbed into the van, then normalcy settled in.

For now.


	5. Chapter 5

Optimus Prime had been briefed about every step that had been made and he had agreed that forcing Mai into anything she didn’t want was not their intention, nor was it their way. She hadn’t proven to be a danger so far and as long as the four men who called themselves The A-Team didn’t discover her true nature, he saw no reason to give an order that would counteract Sam’s decision.

“Thank you for trusting me,” the human Prime said.

“You made a wise choice, Sam. I would be a fool not to trust it. Mai is a survivor like all of us and it is her free choice how to live her life. She now knows she isn’t along.”

Like the other two Sector Seven experiments.

“She didn’t feel broken either,” Sam told the tall mech. “She’s a sane mind and she’s been active long enough to be called stable.”

“Blaster is watching her, Sam. She won’t be alone. Are you sure the humans with her don’t know what she is?”

“As far as I could tell, no. I mean, Baracus talks to his car, but humans tend to do that sometimes. And Murdock’s a bit on the unstable and insane side most of the time. If he talks to her, it’s not because he knows. He talks to an invisible dog called Billie.”

Optimus nodded. “We will keep them under surveillance. As long as Mai isn’t in danger and the humans with her don’t prove to be one for us, there is no reason to intervene. Tom agrees with me. He has already taken the first steps to keep this human called Decker in line.” A brief smile crossed his features. “We might one day need this team’s skills.”

Sam chuckled, then grew serious. “The more allies who know about you guys and the mechs created by Sector Seven, the better. And they really are an impressive team.”

“I have asked Jazz to keep track of them with Blaster’s help. They won’t be alone out there should something unforeseen happen.”

Sam’s face darkened. “Like a Con?”

“Possibly.”

“We should talk to them. They have to know, Optimus. If they discover Mai’s true identity, that they are driving a mech, not a van, things might spiral out of control.”

“I respect Mai’s wishes, Sam.”

“But that respect can only go so far,” he argued.

It got Sam a chuckle. From what he picked up, Optimus was impressed and amused by his fierceness.

“For now we watch. I agree that we have to make contact in some way one day, but not today.”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, shaking his head. “This isn’t like Firebolt. His team knew. They protected him, not the other way around. Mai is undercover and she knows we have discovered her. What if they run into real trouble, like a Decepticon sneaking around Earth? We might not be able to get there in time to keep a lid on things.”

“It’s something we have to risk. They operate under the radar, just like we do, Sam. Give this a little to settle. Jazz knows what’s at stake. He won’t endanger either the humans or the mech.”

Sam knew he had to accept the decision. He also knew it was a logical one. He just didn’t like it. He had been in contact with Mai and he knew she was protective of the A-Team. She would react fiercely should someone threaten them.

In the end he nodded and left the office, deep in thought. He contacted Blaster via the comm. room and asked the communicator to keep him updated on what the A-Team was doing. It gave him a little peace.

  
*

Bumblebee was back on Earth a week later and Sam was rather happy to see him. Barricade had been his shadow in that time, a dark, foreboding presence that told everyone to back off if the technopath needed space. Sam was as always amused, without letting it show too much, and to keep the peace – his own and at the base – he chose to work out of his home on base grounds. The discovery of Mai and the A-Team had him dig deeper into their lives and histories, as well as Mai’s origins. She had been vague about when she had been born. Not because she wanted to hide something but because she really didn’t know.

By the time Bumblebee was back and had taken over as Sam’s primary anchor – which gave Barricade some much needed rest as well and had him leave with Jazz to some unspecified location – Sam had traced Mai’s birth somewhere into the eighties. She was rather old and settled for such a violently created mech life form.

Sam found something beautiful in that. Not all experiments had turned out to be raving lunatics with a penchant to kill and maim. With so many still not accounted for, he hoped that some had actually thrived and become something just as wonderful as the three they had found.

Bumblebee ran a gentle caress over his back and he leaned into the contact, finding even more beauty in that touch. It was different with his partner than with Barricade. Both were his anchors, but only one touched him that deeply. Barricade was a no-nonsense, cool but surprisingly gentle and compassionate anchor who wouldn’t let Sam get lost in the abyss of his own mind. Bumblebee was soft and warm and perfectly attuned to not only his mind but everything else that was Sam.

Something rippled along the bond and Sam opened his eyes, smiling as he discovered Bumblebee’s hardlight form. It was new and they both found more satisfaction in the technopathic link, but his partner was happily experimenting with the limitations the holoform presented. He was also rather cunning at developing resources within those limits.

Sam liked being a part of those experimentations since it meant touching. He and Lennox had never talked about that particular aspect of being bonded to a mechanical life form, but he knew how far Ironhide had gone in trying to make up for the lack of human touches. Technopathy helped in that regard; it gave Sam an advantage. But feeling the caress of hands under his shirt and on his skin was something no amount of mind-linking could make up for. Adding the physical to the technopathical… well, right now it was over in a short amount of time and left Sam breathing hard.

The whirring of air vents from his partner told its own story.

Sam grinned – despite the fact that he now needed to change.

The holoform smirked and Bumblebee leaned forward.

“How often do you think I can make you overload?”

Sam pulled him close. “I’m up for finding that one out… after I get out of these clothes.”

Bumblebee leaned even closer and brushed their lips together. For Sam the contact was almost electric and he shuddered. His mind wrapped itself even closer around the presence of his bonded and he knew he wouldn’t get out of any clothes any time soon if this continued.

Strangely, he didn’t care.

Bumblebee in an experimental mood was way more interesting than the topic of pesky clothes. Especially since the mech liked taking them off him. The pulse of the powerful spark meshed with the rising need in his mind and Sam surrendered to the gentle pressure to let go.

Several miles out in the desert Barricade did the same as his spark merged with Jazz’s, buoyed forward by the pulses he felt from the still existing life-line Sam had forgotten to take down. A life-line he had purposefully not disconnected. Twenty years into this he had found that the echoes from the human technopath had strangely interesting effects on his and Jazz’s connection as well.

::Perv:: Jazz murmured fondly and found a particular connection that had the shock-trooper dig sharp claws into armor crevices.

::It’s your fault, Autobot::

::Mine?:: Blue optics lit up.

::You suggested it::

Now Jazz laughed. ::I never knew you were such an experimental mech, Cade. Me like::

Barricade silenced his bonded by opening up his side of the connection fully, and Jazz’s optics flickered, then went dark as they sank into a complete bond, Sharing.

He didn’t have to explain himself. He didn’t want to think about the implications of what he was doing. He had no responsibilities other than keeping his bonded and the technopath alive and well.

::I love you, too:: Jazz murmured drowsily.

And he really had to keep his partner from watching so many human romance movie.

::As if::

::Shut up, Autobot::

::Make me::

Oh, he would. Jazz looked downright cheeky as he picked up Barricade’s intentions and the former Decepticon growled.

Challenge accepted.

* * *

It had been six months since the last time and today, for the first time, he finally knew where it all came from. Looking at the van, he let the thunderstorm run its course and he could see it. He could see the difference in the van compared to the other cars.

Face almost smiled.

A silver sports car and a black Mustang had had the same ‘buzz’, the same thunderstorm in his head, and he had noticed them on several occasions throughout their last job. It had been an easy one and it had given the team the satisfaction of helping a farming community survive against a ruthless landowner who had wanted more. He had gone as far as poisoning the water.

Now he was out of business, out of funds, and the community would survive.

“They’re like you, right?” he murmured, leaning against the van, enjoying the cooler air compared to the heat of the past weeks.

B.A. had already dropped off Murdock. The next few days was down-time and the team could do what they wanted. B.A. had planned to spend some time with a youth center he knew close by. Hannibal had simply raised an eyebrow at Face and the younger man had shrugged. He didn’t really want to go anywhere. He wanted to have some peace and quiet, which was an unusual feeling. Normally he jumped head-first at the opportunity to con his way into a horrendously expensive spa resort, enjoy the luxury, and the company of the ladies.

The thunderstorm and the knowledge just what was lurking among them had him reconsider.

He had never talked to a car. He wasn’t Murdock, who talked to invisible animals. He wasn’t B.A., who loved his black van. The past six months he had tried to ignore the knowledge, though it had been hard. He had tried to ignore the thunderstorm, which had been harder.

Waiting for B.A. and Hannibal, he put on his sunglasses and gazed at the sky.

“I can see the difference,” Face said softly, to no one in particular. “I never knew that the buzz was me seeing you. Anyone of you. Do you know I can recognize you?”

It almost felt like the van shifted a little.

He smiled.

“I saw you in the motel parking lot. I thought it was a dream. More like a nightmare. Now I know it isn’t. I know you’re not what you seem to be.” A brief chuckle escaped him. “Welcome to a team where this is the norm.”

He patted the van’s side as he pushed away.

“Maybe talk to you later.” He hadn’t really expected an answer.

And he walked away.

“Wait,” a soft, female voice said and Face froze in his tracks.

Female?

It almost made him laugh out loud. Female! Who would have thought? And it was a rather pleasant voice as well.

“Have you told the others?” the female voice asked and she sounded apprehensive.

“No. No, I haven’t. I didn’t know that the sensation, the thunderstorm, was you. Or the others.”

She was silent, then his cell buzzed and he looked at the display. It read ‘Mai’.

“Please pick up?”

“You’re Mai?”

“Yes.”

He answered the phone.

“I want to trust you with the truth,” she said.

He felt something inside of him freeze. Trust. Trust him. Not many had done that in the past and of those who had, three made up the rest of the A-Team.

Finally, former Army lieutenant Templeton ‘Face’ Peck made a choice.

“Will you trust us?” he asked.

“I want to,” Mai answered.

And then she started to talk. She told Face everything she knew and he suddenly understood. He understood what had happened twenty years ago; at least more than before. He understood that for the past two decades aliens had been among them. He understood that he could somehow sense them, that the explosion that had failed to kill him had changed his brain. Murdock wasn’t the only crazy person now.

And he understood that Mai wasn’t the only one of her kind. There were others and the Cybertronian aliens supported and protected them.

“They are watching us?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t talk for the rest of the team, but I want to talk to them.”

Because he could tell them apart from the normal cars and other vehicles. Because this concerned him.

Mai hesitated.

“I know the silver sports car is one of them. I’ll find it if you can’t get me in contact with them.” Face watched as Hannibal came closer. His team leader looked quizzical, seeing his second-in-command on the phone.

In that moment he made a decision.

He snapped the phone shut and waited for his commanding officer to reach him.

“We need to talk, Hannibal. Alone.”

Mai seemed to shiver, but he ignored her. The thunderstorm in his head increased and he noticed a black Mustang park across the road. The silver one was nowhere to be seen.

Hannibal studied him, eyes sharp, face neutral. He finally nodded and gestured at him to walk with him.

It was time to come clean, Face decided. Now that he understood what had happened to him a bit better.


	6. Chapter 6

  
Sam received the call from Blaster within a minute after Mai contacted him. He dropped whatever he had been working on. Bumblebee was already in his alternate mode, the driver side door opening wordlessly.

  
Optimus Prime cleared his schedule and put the Nevada base on alert. Nellis responded similarly.

  
No more than twelve hours later a transport flight came in, accompanied by fighter jets and invisible to any normal radar. Four men and a mech life form were aboard.

* * *

Wherever they were, it wasn’t your typical military base. The flight had been long, filled with tension and interrupted by brief conversations between the soldiers and the robots, but otherwise no one had interrupted Hannibal’s thoughts. For once, B.A. had not thrown a fit about flying. The huge sergeant was too shell-shocked by the events to react to the flight at all. He was staring at his beloved van as if merely blinking would change everything once again.

“B.A.,” Hannibal said in a low, soft voice.

No reaction.

His team was tense, despite the non-hostile behavior of the soldiers. They had been on the run too long to be lulled into a false sense of peace. This wasn’t a normal situation and it was far from everything Smith had ever been confronted with.

Alien life forms. Robotic life forms. It was like a bad dream.

Their own van was an alien!

Okay, as far as he understood what the kid had told them the van hadn’t always been a robot. It had come to life because some secret organization had meddled with it.

B.A. had bought the replacement for his beloved black van a few months after they had made their escape once more, after the shipyard fiasco. That had been five years ago. Ever since the team had been where they were needed, where people needed them. They had helped countless small business, families and those down on their luck when it came to facing off against much stronger opponents. Never in all those years had any of them noticed anything.

B.A., who loved tinkering with his van, had never remarked on something being amiss or different. The van had been a van.

Now it was a robot.

Glancing at his second-in-command Hannibal caught the sharp blue eyes. Face was as wary as all of them, tension radiating off him. What the kid had told him had shocked him more than anything he had ever heard or seen before, especially considering that Face had kept one detail about himself so very well hidden, not even Hannibal had ever found out.

“You think we’ll get out of this?” the younger man asked, barely audible over the whine of the engines.

Hannibal frowned. He couldn’t tell. This was, literally, out of this world. He had handled a lot in his time with the Special Forces, but this… never this. No.

Face, not getting an answer, turned back to surveying the men and women with them inside the military transporter.

When they finally landed, Hannibal had no idea where they were and he didn’t expect an answer. He was simply surprised that they weren’t shackled and escorted to a waiting MP guard. Escorted they were, but free and unbound. Unarmed, too.

The van and the other two vehicles rolled off the plane and their van was guided to the hangar just across the tarmac.

There were mountains not far away, but no landmark otherwise. Crisp blue sky above, hard-packed ground below.

A man approached them. Tall, slender, clearly military, though he was dressed in casual clothes. His bearing was of someone who knew what it meant to be in command. He was younger than Smith, but something about him alarmed Hannibal. He had no idea what it was; it was just a sense.

He thought he could make out something like a weird tattoo on his temple. More like a faint smudge. He blinked. Then again. It… had moved? An inscription running over the man’s cheek and disappearing at the jaw line. Behind the man was a huge black Topkick, which sudden transformed into a gigantic robot, huge weapons folding out of his forearms.

“Colonel Smith?” the man asked, smiling briefly. “My name is Will Lennox. Welcome to Nevada Base.”

No rank. Just a name. But the man was clearly, very clearly, higher in the command structure. Hannibal schooled his features.

“Thank you,” he replied formally. “Quite an operation you’ve got here.”

It got him a wry smile. “Follow me.”

And they followed. Hannibal felt naked without his weapons, but he was more worried about Face than about a possibly armed conflict. They wouldn’t be able to last against one of those machines.

Face looked paler by the moment. If his lieutenant had told him the whole truth about being able to sense those machines then being here, among so many, would create not just a mere thunderstorm. It would be a tornado in his mind.

“Colonel Smith,” a deep, rather pleasant voice startled them and Hannibal had to crane his neck to meet the bright blue optics of the largest mech he had seen so far. “My name is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. Thank you and your team for agreeing to meet us.”

“There was a choice?”

“Yes.”

“And if we had said no?”

“We wouldn’t be here right now.”

Face rubbed one temple, clearly not at ease and fighting the thunderstorm.

“Mai has given us several reports. We also have extensive knowledge of yourself, your team, your history.”

Well, that figured. Hannibal didn’t know whether to laugh or be on high alert. He settled on a mixture of both.

“I believe you have questions.”

 _A lot_ , Hannibal thought.

“And I’m willing to answer them all.”

“In exchange for…?” He knew the game. Nothing came without a price tag.

Optimus Prime smiled a little. “I only ask of you and your team to keep us a secret.”

Face almost snorted. “Not that hard. Who would believe in alien robots on Earth. Aside from Murdock, and he’s certified insane.”

“We have enemies, Lieutenant Peck.”

Hannibal studied the alien features that looked far more human the longer he looked at the tall mech. “If you know about us, you know there’s a prize on our heads.”

“Yes.”

“You could throw us in jail. I noticed the military contingent here. Don’t tell me they’re all your people in disguise.”

“They aren’t. But our presence on this planet is a difficult one and the military is protecting our existence, like we are protecting this world.”

From what? Hannibal wondered. Who was the enemy?

“I’m not interested in your past. Your files tell me enough, as do your actions after the trial. Mai was created by something we call the Allspark and she wasn’t born under the best of circumstances.”

“She was an experiment,” Hannibal agreed.

“And she isn’t alone.”

“So your plans with us are what?”

Optimus Prime suddenly knelt down, leaning closer, and Hannibal nearly took a step back. The mech was maybe even more imposing that closely than standing upright.

“I want you to understand who Mai is, where she came from, and how important her existence is. Unlike us, she isn’t a child of Cybertron. The Allspark didn’t give her a spark or a life. She trusts you, Colonel Smith, and she trusts your team. Your knowledge of her gives you power over a life that depends on you.”

Hannibal stared into the blue optics, aware what was being said. “I’m responsible for me team, Optimus Prime. They trust me not to betray them; I trust them not to betray me.”

“Can Mai trust you?”

“Yes.”

“This situation is new for you.”

“We can adapt.”

It got him a smile. “That you can.”

Hannibal glanced at Face, who didn’t look too good. His face was white as a sheet. He also noticed that Lennox was still there, a silent, alert watcher, and that whatever skin condition he had, it seemed worse. Something weirdly rune-like was displayed prominently on his left temple and extended like a tribal tattoo down his cheek.

“Mai told us about Lieutenant Peck’s condition,” Optimus Prime interrupted his thoughts. It seems the explosion in Mission City that hospitalized him left the lieutenant with a special ability.”

“Special my ass,” Face whispered.

“Face.”

Slightly glass blue eyes met steely ones. The younger man accepted the reprimand from his team leader.

“We might be able to help.”

“How?” Hannibal demanded.

“Our doctors are more equipped to deal with something from Mission City,” Lennox spoke up for the first time.

Hannibal gazed at the runes. Lennox smiled darkly, interpreting his look.

“That wasn’t Mission City. It’s something to be told another time.”

“You ask for a lot more than just our cooperation when it comes to Mai.”

“We offer. We don’t ask.”

Hannibal met the dark eyes, unable to put Lennox into any of the many categories he had for powerful figures he met. This man was so different, he was a category of his own.

“John.”

The use of his given name had Smith turn to Face. Blue eyes burned with pain.

“I want to. Right now, I don’t care if they lock me away forever.”

“Are you sure?”

“Let them have a look.” Face squeezed his eyes shut. “Anything is better than that.”

*

They had been asked to leave the examination room as long as a doctor was looking at face and while Hannibal hadn’t wanted to, he had yielded when Face had silently pleaded him to. There had been no mechs in the medical area and the lieutenant had looked a lot more relaxed, which told Hannibal just how bad it was. B.A. had been not far from where Face was currently undergoing a close scan of his whole body. He and Murdock hadn’t left Mai for a moment. B.A. because Mai was ‘his girl’ and his car; Murdock because of some obscure reason or other.

Hannibal had found himself in what looked like the base version of a hospital cafeteria. There was a coffee machine, a snack dispenser, and even computer pad that downloaded newspapers or magazines. He had been surprised that he wasn’t alone. Will Lennox was there.

Hannibal didn’t know why just being around Lennox had him so on the edge. The man was clearly command material and the soldiers at the base treated him like a high ranking officer, but he wore neither a uniform, nor did he behave like he had anything to say. Right now he was sitting with a young man, early twenties tops, who was devouring a whole pack of M&Ms like it was the last food he would ever get. Lennox was drinking coffee.

“Don’t like that guy,” B.A. rumbled when he joined him.

Mai seemed to be in no danger and Murdock had bounced out of the huge examination room not much later.

Hannibal tilted his head a little. “The kid or Lennox?”

“Both give off bad vibes.”

“Didn’t know you were psychic, big guy,” Murdock piped up, but the serious expression in his eyes belied his words.

“Shut up, fool. Them are bad news.”

“I’m not so sure about the news, more about what Lennox really is.”

“Military,” Murdock remarked. “Bad ass military. Black ops and worse.”

Hannibal had to agree. The man had something about him that only a few hardcore black ops operatives had. He had met a few in his time with the Army. Lennox easily came out on top of that list of dangerous people.

“And while I see things you don’t,” Murdock went on, voice sing-songing a little, “I betcha we can all see what’s wrong with him.”

“Not from this world,” B.A. agreed.

“Yeah. Whatever happened to him, he’s not hiding it, but he’s also not telling us. I know the kid from somewhere.”

Murdock shrugged. “He was in New York.”

B.A. shot him a sharp, disbelieving look.

“Y’know,” the pilot went on, gesturing. “New York. Big Apple. The Burg. Father Knickerbocker. America’s Financial Mecca.”

“Shut up, Murdock, before I make you.”

Hannibal stared at the kid, then shook his head. “Murdock’s right. Ruth Chambers. And her pretty little niece Rebekka, who didn’t fall for Face’s charm. That was the kid, at reception. He had a room there.”

One of the doctors who were with Face came out and approached Lennox and the kid. Lennox nodded, clapped the younger man on the shoulder, and left. The kid disappeared into the room and Hannibal felt himself tense.

“What’s goin’ on?” B.A. growled.

“Time to find out.”

Hannibal stalked over to the room and pushed the door open.


	7. Chapter 7

  
Sam leaned against the wall in the corner, watching Ratchet and Dr. Mark Keyron examine the new-arrival. Templeton ‘Face’ Peck looked like he was suffering from a bad migraine and he was pale as a sheet. In a way Sam could relate. If this ‘thunderstorm’ Peck kept talking about was anything like the symptoms he had had when his own abilities had come through, he really wasn’t having a good time. Sam had been asked by one of the assistant doctor to join them, mainly because Ratchet’s presence was upsetting whatever it was that tortured Peck.

The technopath couldn’t shield anyone, but he could try and find out if something his mind saw or felt from Ratchet was actively hurting the other man. So far he hadn’t pinpointed anything, but he had managed to ease the pressure by manipulating ratchet’s systems. The medic had been slightly annoyed, but he had given Sam permission to continue as long as the human Prime didn’t off-line him or made his work impossible.

Sam had promised not to come close to his processor or spark.

Keyron typed a command into the MHD, the medical holo display, and a three-dimensional image of Peck came up. Along his spine several thin lines showed up. One was very close to his neck.

“This is what the doctors couldn’t find with conventional means,” Keyron said, stepping back. “Shards.”

“Shards?” Face echoed faintly.

“You said you were caught in an explosion in Mission City when you were a teenager. You have the scars to prove it. This is what was left and what couldn’t be found. Shards. Fine slivers of alien metal.”

Now Peck looked positively sick.

“Looks like this is responsible for you feeling when a Cybertronian life form is close. You react a lot stronger to these guys than Mai. I suspect that the radiation from the mechs is sending shock vibrations through the shards. Those translate through your nervous system and your brain interprets it as a thunderstorm.”

The lieutenant rubbed his tired eyes. “Can you take them out?”

“Most likely. But not all. This one,” Keyron pointed at the one that seemed to be inserted into a neck vertebra, “is tricky. I could kill or handicap you for life. The others are surrounded by enough muscle tissue that we can safely remove them.”

So Face wasn’t a technopath. He had survived something terrible and hadn’t died, but the splinters in him had changed his perception of the world nevertheless.

“So when you take them out, except the tricky one, what happens then?”

“Best case scenario?” Keyron leaned against the MHD. “You stop feeling the effects. The thunderstorms.”

“Worst case?”

“Nothing changes.”

The lieutenant was silent for a moment. “Or I get something in between? Dampened effect?”

The doctor nodded.

Again Face massaged his temples. “Anything that makes this migraine any less is appreciated.”

Sam studied the pinched features, the pale skin, and he knew he would have chosen the same way. His own abilities had nothing to do with foreign objects in his body. While Will had been speared by the Allspark shard, it had disappeared inside his body and no scan in the world could penetrate the dense invisible shield the hybrid had around himself. Maybe he would look the same way Peck did: splinters everywhere.

Smith suddenly walked into the room, scowling when he discovered Ratchet, scowling even more, eyes close to enraged, when Face only smiled faintly. He really looked terrible. Murdock and Baracus took up protective positions and Sam admired the closeness of the team. No words were lost.

“What’s going on?” Smith demanded, voice hard.

Peck nodded at Keyron to tell him.

“It’s my choice, Hannibal,” Face said forcefully when they digested the news. “I’m going through with it. You don’t have to suffer these headaches! If they can make it better, I’m all game!”

“You trust them?” the older man asked softly.

Face met the steely eyes with a steely look himself. “Yes.”

Hannibal blew out a breath. “It’s your choice, kid.”

“Damn right it is.”

“But if it doesn’t work out…”

“Then at least I tried.”

And that was it. Hannibal looked at him long and hard, then clasped the younger man’s neck and squeezed it gently.

“This is new for all of us,” Face said calmly. “Everything’s changed. But if they can remove the splinters…”

“The migraines are gone.”

He nodded.

Another squeeze. “We’ll be there.”

It wasn’t just a promise. It was a vow. Face smiled at his commanding officer, a brilliant, warm smile.

“Damn right we will be,” B.A. rumbled.

“To the stars and beyond,” Murdock agreed.

Face laughed a little. Sam caught Keyron’s look and he knew this was serious surgery and that the doctor would do whatever he could to help Peck, but there were no guarantees.

::The splinter close to his neck is difficult:: Ratchet said, using the connection Sam had opened. ::We might not be able to get it out::

::Do you think those are Allspark splinters?::

::The Allspark didn’t explode. It disappeared. I believe what Lieutenant Peck has in his body are parts from, well, us.::

Sam shot him an incredible look. Ratchet didn’t comment any further.

::He can sense you guys because of parts from you?:: the technopath repeated.

::Yes:: Ratchet didn’t sound happy.

::How?!::

::I can’t tell unless I have one of the splinters for examination::

Keyron cleared his throat and Sam became aware of everyone’s attention on him. Anyone who had never heard of technopathy – and who else would have heard but those who knew him? – and anyone who just watched him stare at Ratchet with varying expression would call him mad. He dredged up a smile.

“Gotta go,” he muttered. “Appointment.”

::How many more injured from Mission City could be affected?:: he asked Ratchet as he fled from the room.

::I don’t know, Sam, but Lieutenant Peck’s condition makes me fear the worst.::

So did Sam. He had to find a list with the people who had suffered from the Decepticon attack. Twenty years had passed. Time to find out the truth.

* * *

Two days later Face was in surgery. Five hours after it had started he was wheeled out of the OR and Keyron looked rather positive.

“We removed all splinters except for the one in his neck,” he told the three men who had been waiting more or less patiently outside. “Its actually fused tightly with two neck vertebrae. The others were easily cut out. Lieutenant Peck will be fine.”

“Except for that one shard,” Hannibal stated.

Keyron nodded. “The risk of a permanent handicap or death were too great.”

“I appreciate your care, doctor. We all do.”

“Colonel, it’s my profession to help people.”

“When can we see him?” Murdock asked eagerly.

“He’s still waking up. Give him another hour.”

The pilot bounced on the balls of his feet and B.A. glared at him. Hannibal just nodded at the doctor, leaning back in a chair. He would wait. As long as he had to.

* * *

Ratchet looked deeply disturbed. Sam could feel the emotions radiate off him without even trying to pick up anything. The chief medical officer had asked for the Primes to be present. At least the three currently on base.

“I examined the splinters I removed from Lieutenant Peck,” Ratchet said. “All of them are made of Cybertronian alloys.”

“So they are parts of mechs who were injured or killed in Mission City?” Will asked.

“I tried to find out where exactly the lieutenant was when he was injured. The medical files are rather vague due to the many injured. He was found near one of the heavier fight zones. I can’t tell who were the donors, so to speak. It could be Autobot or Decepticon. What is more disturbing is the fact that the presence of these splinters enabled Lieutenant Peck to sense us.”

“Normally I’d agree,” Lennox said. “But there’s always the Allspark energy.”

“He shows no signs of it. He was also far away from where Sam released the Allspark’s power to kill Megatron,” Ratchet argued. “I believe the key to the mystery is the fused shard in his neck. It’s attached to the C1 and C2 vertebrae, what your doctors call the Atlas and the Axis. Peck’s medical files say he had scrapes and bruises and cuts on his neck and in his face. No doctor found deep stab wounds or lacerations that accompany such violence. There is also just a faint scar. The others Dr. Keyron removed were more prominently scarred.”

“So…?” Sam probed. “What you’re saying is…?”

“I can’t identify the shard still in his neck. I can’t explain how the injuries made this one human so sensitive to us.”

Optimus Prime hummed softly. His optics had taken on a deeper hue of blue. “Can we be sure that the splinters are splinters?”

Sam blinked, exchanging confused looks with Will.

“Op?”

“Throughout the war new methods of undetectable infiltration methods were developed. One short-lived spy method was a microscopically small mechanoid being that could combine with more of its kind to form a Blade. The Blades were lethal and nearly undetectable, but once we discovered their existence, we developed countermeasures that eradicated them.”

“I’m positive that we aren’t dealing with a partial Blade, Optimus,” Ratchet said. “I immediately sent the correct pulses to annihilate it, but there was no reaction. There is no pulse coming from the splinters either. I’d have to study the lieutenant to maybe get an answer. I doubt he would volunteer, though.”

“He won’t. They won’t,” Will stated, shaking his head. “We don’t even know how his abilities were triggered. We don’t know what he was able to do before. He was sixteen. He was gravely injured, he was surrounded by dying mechs who probably radiated a lot of stuff our bodies aren’t happy about, and it all combined to give him this sixth sense.”

Ratchet whirred unhappily. “I have a lot of scans I need to go through, but to really discover what has happened to this human, I’d need him to stay here.”

“He won’t agree,” Lennox remarked. “Neither will his team. And I agree with them. He isn’t in any danger from the remaining splinters. We gave them a promise that they can leave. I won’t confine him here for no other purpose than medical curiosity.”

Ratchet’s optics flared. “This is far more…”

Optimus held up a hand. “I have to agree with Will, ratchet. I gave these men my word. As long as Lieutenant Peck is in no immediate danger and as long as he is no danger to us, he can leave.”

“Very well,” the medic bowed to the authority of the Primes. “I’ll see if he agrees to a few more scans, so I have enough material to continue my research without him.”

Optimus nodded his agreement.

When Ratchet had left, the Autobot leader looked at his fellow Primes.

“Sam?”

The technopath understood the unspoken question. “I felt nothing from him, Optimus. Whatever fused to his spine, it’s not alive. And Face is no danger. No more than any other Special Forces operative anyway.” He shot a smile over at Lennox. “He’s just human.”

“And we’ll keep an eye on them anyway,” Will added.

* * *

It had taken him less than a week to recover completely from the minimalistic surgery. The cuts had been tiny and there had been no visible scarring. Face had woken up to find his team with him. B.A. had snored in one corner, Murdock had been playing some kind of video game, and Hannibal had watched him. Like he had watched him the whole time the lieutenant had been sleeping.

The thunderstorm was gone. Not completely. Face would have been surprised if the surgery had had a hundred percent success. It was now a static in his mind, like a distant storm, which only rose in intensity when there was too much input. He could still tell the Cybertronians apart from the normal machines, but it no longer overwhelmed him.

After a week it was time to go home. Well, their version of a home. Their version of a life. With Mai.

B.A. was completely in love with the idea of a sentient car by now and where he had been fond of his car before he was now mother-hen protective.

“Ready?”

Hannibal’s voice interrupted his thoughts and Face looked up from his private look-out point. He had chosen a low roof structure to get some necessary alone-time. It was a place one of the humans who seemed to have a special position with the mechs, a kid called Sam, had shown him. Face was sure that there were secrets they had yet to discover, like who Sam was, who Lennox really was, like so many, many things, but right now his mental self-defense mechanism told him to stop asking. They had been brought into a world that was already overwhelming him. He didn’t really need to know that much more.

“Ready,” he answered.

Hannibal held out a hand and Face took it, letting the other man help him get up. “How bad is it?” the colonel wanted to know.

“Just a mild buzz. Enough to make me want to get away from here, a lot less than a week ago.”

Hannibal held his steady eyes and Face let him see, without masks and facades, that he was fine.

“Another week,” the leader of the A-Team told him. “Then we take on a new job.”

“Hannibal, I’m fine!”

“We aren’t. We all need the time.”

Face smiled. “I know a very nice lady in a very, very nice hotel in Vegas who might just let us stay in their executive suite for a week.”

Hannibal chuckled. “I thought you would. And Vegas might just do the trick.”

“I’m sure she’s open for a deal.”

Hannibal grinned more. “Give it your best shot, Lieutenant.”

“I always do, Colonel.”

* * *

They were back on the road, back in their old lives. Not with a pardon, but something close to it. And with a promise that whatever could be done to clear their names, it would be done. When Hannibal had met an older man by the name of Tom Banachek he had first judged him as the usual pencil pusher, but he had been wrong. Two hours later he knew that this man had done something close to acquiring a pardon: he had gotten the Army off their backs and the search warrants for the A-Team removed from the police files. To reinstate it would take more, but Banachek had simply asked for time.

They had it. Now that they didn’t have Decker or Lynch or some small town sheriff breathing down their necks, they had a lot. It wouldn’t change their MO, the way they worked, but it would free them.

Hannibal lit up a cigar, grinning to himself.

The deal had been a rather simple one, too. Mia was their charge; they were her guardians. B.A. had taken to that like a fish to water. He had always loved his car; now he adored it. Murdock was one happy crazy puppy. Face… Face could still feel mechs, but it was a gift now. It was no longer a debilitating curse.

And Optimus Prime had made it part of the deal that should they, well, Face, pick up anything, he had to call in the location. It might be just an Autobot undercover, but it could be a Decepticon, too. Hannibal had been told a few ways to get in contact with the mechs or their allies, and he had been astounded to hear just where they were all spread out.

Now the A-Team belonged to that operation as well. Indirectly. They were still working their own jobs, but should they run into a rogue experiment from Sector Seven, they would handle that, too. Mia was actually looking forward to finding kin; even if they might turn out to be homicidal or insane.

Looking over his shoulder, Hannibal checked on their con man. Face was dozing. Murdock caught Smith’s look and gave him a brief nod. The pilot, while giving the impression of being completely absorbed in his game, was keeping a close eye on their lieutenant. Despite how well he had made it through the surgery, he was still the recipient of the ‘thunderstorms’ and being at the base had drained him more than he had let on.

“He’ll be fine, Colonel,” Mai’s soft voice told him. She almost whispered as not to wake Face.

Hannibal smiled. “I know he will.”

They all would be.

fin!


End file.
